


The ways we say "I love you"

by Anonymous



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Childhood Sexual Abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Molestation, Night Terrors, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, VERY UNDERAGE, richie's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26131123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: There's never just one victim.Or,Richie wishes the nightmares would stop.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Sonia Kaspbrak
Comments: 1
Kudos: 51
Collections: Anonymous





	The ways we say "I love you"

It starts, as always, in Richie’s bedroom. Not his bedroom now, but his bedroom then. No dark walls, no band posters, just stripes of blue, his toy box in the corner, a little bed, a bookshelf full of stories Went tells him in different, funny voices.

He’s sat on the floor with his best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak. His pants are down and he doesn’t understand what Eddie’s doing, touching him somewhere only Maggie does in the bath, and never like this.

It’s more confusing than anything else, but uncomfortable, too. 

“Mommy says it’s a way of saying _I love you_ ,” claims Eddie.

“Oh.” Richie's brows are drawn in together as he watches. “It feels weird.”

“Yeah, I think so, too,” replies Eddie. He draws his hand back and sits back on his bottom. “She kisses my pee-pee, too.”

Richie’s nose scrunches up, pants still hung around his ankles as he tilts his head. “That’s yucky. Your pee comes from there!”

Eddie nods in agreement. “I don’t like it. She says I have to kiss her front bottom, too. Like ice-cream. It smells.”

“Your mommy’s weird,” replies Richie, perplexed. “She’s scary.”

“She’s not scary!” argues Eddie brashly. “I love Mommy.”

Richie doesn’t answer for a moment. He feels uneasy but he just pulls back up his pants and says, “Wanna go play outside?”

Eddie thinks about it a moment. “Okay. But, Richie?”

“Yeah?”

“The way I showed you is a secret. If you tell then that means you break the love. So if you love me, then don’t tell, okay? Promise?”

Richie considers before he takes Eddie’s hand. “Okay,” he agrees solemnly. “I promise. I won’t tell, because I love you.”

“I love you, too, Richie.”

Richie grins. “...Hey, Daddy made loads of piles of leaves yesterday. Do you wanna go jump in them?”

Eddie grins back. “Yeah!”

The pair sprint down the stairs towards the backyard, Maggie stopping them at the back door to bundle them up in scarves and hats and…

Richie Tozier, fifteen-years-old, startles awake in his bed. 

He struggles to take in a breath and has to put a hand flat against his ribcage to try and still the creeping dread hanging over his body, the remnants of the memory seeping hot nausea into his stomach like it always does.

“Rich?” mumbles Eddie from the nearby camp cot, half asleep. “Rich, you okay?”

There’s so many things Richie wants to say. 

He wants to say _no_ , _I’m not_.

He wants to ask _do you remember that time when we were four and you touched me?_

He wants Eddie to tell him if _she’s still touching you? Do you remember it? Am I going crazy? Is this memory even real? Do you have nightmares, too? Do you get anxious, too? Can you not stop thinking about it, too?_

He doesn’t, of course, pushes down the urge to vomit instead.

“Yeah, man,” he croaks. “Just a… just a weird dream.”

Eddie makes a distance hum and rolls over, going silent again.

Richie puts his head between his knees and focuses on keeping his breathing steady.

He won’t tell. He loves Eddie, after all.

He can't tell.

He can't tell.

He can't tell.

He can't tell.

He can't tell.

He can't tell.

He can't tell.

He can't tell.

He can't tell.

He can't tell.

**Author's Note:**

> I am sick to death of child sex abuse being glamorized on this site.
> 
> This is the reality. If you were hoping for something more provocative, I hope this was a nice splash of cold fucking water.
> 
> Go to fucking therapy and stop searching out child porn.


End file.
